Prank Week
by Deanyfan101
Summary: Sam and Dean celebrate Prank Week.  A challenge from their childhood.  Things go too far and one brother ends up hurt.  Hurt!Sam.  Rated T for mild language.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: The Beginning of a Bad Prank**

"Dude, this is your fault," Sam complained as he rubbed a raw spot on his knee with an alcohol wipe.

"It is not!" Dean corrected, "You had to challenge me. You know you'll always lose when you challenge me."

"Yeah, but this is worse than the Nair incident. I fell down a flight of stairs!"

"That wasn't my skateboard at the landing, now was it? Sammy, you should have been watching where you were going. You had it coming."

"You started this whole thing, Dean, yesterday, remember?"

_Thursday morning. The day before._

Sam woke to a clown mask less than two inches from his face. He yelled and rolled off the bed, immediately tangled in the mass of thin blankets to keep warm in the dead of winter.

Dean stood over Sam and helped him up, clutching at his ribs with the hand holding the mask.

"Dude, that is so not funny."

Dean gasped for air, "Oh, I think it was." He doubled over with laughter.

"You... Should have... Seen... The look on... Your face, man. Priceless!"

"This is war, Dean. You started this. Now, _I'm_ going to finish it."

Dean glared at him, "And prank week has begun."

"May the better man win."

"Don't worry," he said, a cocky grin on his face, "I will."

"Jerk, just so you know, the clown thing didn't count. That happened before Prank Week started."

"Fine. Didn't count. I'll still kick your ass."

"You wish."

"Just wait," Dean laughed, "You'll find a clown doll in your backpack, and I'll be laughing my head off."

_Two hours later, Dean steps out of the shower._

"Sammy, we gotta head out. The library's waiting."

Sam stood up and grabbed his backpack off the floor next to the bed.

"I've never seen you this ready to go to the library, Dean."

"Well, considering your precious laptop isn't working, what other choice to we have?"

Sam followed Dean out of the motel room and headed to the car. Sam was smiling evilly behind Dean's back as they got to the black Impala.

Dean shoved the key in the ignition and grabbed a cassette from under the dashboard, placing it in the 8-track.

He turned the key and suddenly, the windshield wipers went wild, REO Speedwagon blared through the small car, the turn signals started blinking, and a very entertained Sam sat cracking up in the passenger's seat.

Dean turned the key back and shot a death-glare at Sam.

"I think that's one for the little brother, and zip for jackass older brother," Sam announced, tears streaming down his face from laughing.

Dean got out of the car, walked to Sam's side, calmly opened Sam's door, jerked Sam out, and shut the door.

"Dean?"

Dean walked back to his side and got back in, putting everything back to normal before shoving the key back in and starting the car. Metallica automatically blazed loudly and Sam threw his hands up.

"Dean?! Hey!"

Dean pulled out of the parking lot slowly, leaving Sam standing there, shocked.

Sam whipped out his cell phone as he began to walk back to the motel room. He punched in a number and waited. The phone picked up. Sam could hear the sound of "The Ecstasy of Gold" in the background.

"What the hell, Dean?"

There was a click as the phone cut off.

"Dean?"

Sam sat on his bed, flipping through random channels that he _could_ get on the motel room television.

Meanwhile, Dean was driving to the library, jamming to Metallica.

"I'm so gonna get him back for that, baby," he cooed to the car, "No one messes with you and gets away with it."

Several, evil thoughts ran through his imagination. He could remake the Nair incident. No, too repetitive. Whoopie cushion? No, too old school. Ooh. There's a good idea. Had nothing to do with clowns, Nair, or a whoopie cushion.

He did all the research he could at the library, excitement slowly creeping into his mind. He drove back to the motel room three and a half hours later. Halfway there, he decided he'd go ahead and put his plan in action. He pulled out his phone and called Sam.

"_Hello?"_ Sam asked and Dean smiled.

"Sammy, just a heads up, if you _ever_ touch my car again, I'll kill you in your sleep."

"_You're just mad that I got you on this one, Dean. This was your doing. You started it."_

"I don't care, Sam! You're not supposed to bring the Impala into this!"

"_Dean, it's just a car. It doesn't have feelings."_

"Hey, I caught you talking to your stupid laptop once, I don't want to hear it."

"_Whatever, Dean. I really don't care anymore."_

"Anyway, I was driving home, and I saw this really cool-looking bar a couple streets over, and I thought maybe, we could take some time off from Prank Week and hunting to relax for a couple hours."

Sam sounded reluctant to trust his brother, "_Fine."_

Dean smiled. His plan was working, "Okay, be ready in five minutes."

"_Okay, bye."_

"Later."

Dean hung up and turned up the volume on the radio.

He pulled into the motel parking lot and walked to the room. Carefully checking above the door for any buckets and at the bottom of the door for trip-wires, he stepped into the room.

Sam walked out of the bathroom moments later, wearing a navy blue t-shirt, jeans, and a denim jacket.

"Ready there, Skippy?" Dean smiled. Sam nodded and walked ahead of Dean, who smiled his smug little grin. Payback was amazing.

They rode in silence to the "cool-looking" bar Dean had passed. They sat in one of the back booths and Dean began to tell him what he'd learned.

"So, apparently, there's this woman that's connected to all those murders. She died the exact same way a few years back. Only a man killed her. Her name was Achelle Winters, age twenty-six. My guess is she's been killing twenty-six year old guys the same way she died. Trying to get revenge maybe. Oh, and she was cremated."

"Fuuun," Sam said sarcastically.

"But there was a bandana that she always wore. Police found it the day they found her body. Said it was shoved in her mouth. They, of course, pulled it out, thinking it was nothing. I think she's tied to that bandana and doesn't want to leave as long as it's still around. So, we burn the bandana and that's it, right?"

"But, what if there's something more to it? What if it's like the healing thing? Remember, when you got shocked hunting that ghost and we went to that blind guy? We thought that destroying the alter would kill it, but it was the necklace."

"Good point. I actually thought that too, but there's nothing else for her to be tied to. Oh, well, we'll worry about it later. Right now, I see a girl over at that bar that looks like your type."

Dean got up from the table, against Sam's protests, and walked to a woman at the bar with long blond hair and tan skin. Dean pointed back at Sam and the woman smiled and nodded.

Sam had a bad feeling about this, but it was too late. The girl was walking toward him.

"Hey there, good lookin'" she said smoothly. Sam smiled at her and tilted his head back down.

"Wanna go back to my place?"

Sam shook his head, but the girl grabbed him by the wrist and practically drug him out of the bar.

Dean smiled and took another sip from his mug.

An hour of flirting with girls and winning numbers later, Dean strutted back to the Impala and drove to the motel room to clean some of the guns.

He listened to a talk show on the television about a woman who found out that her boyfriend was a transvestite.

"Ironic," he mumbled with a sly grin.

(A/N) Took me a while to come up with Sam's prank, so it probably wasn't all that great.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Dude, Where Are Your Pants?**

Three _more_ hours later, there was a frantic knock on the door.

"About time."

He got up and looked through the tiny hole to see a frantic-looking Sam standing there. Sam pounded on the door again and looked around.

Dean opened the door and immediately started cracking up. Sam shoved past him and slammed the door.

"Dude..." Dean gasped between laughing fits, "Where are your pants?"

"Shut up, Dean. She was a _HE_!!!"

"This is better than a clown."

"It's not funny."

"Yes, it is. I do believe that's a tie, isn't it?"

"Dean, I just want to get some sleep. It's been a long day, and the gender-confused man didn't help any."

"Fine. We'll call it a truce. Prank Week has officially gone too far.

"I'll say."

"I gotta admit, you fought pretty hard. Although, screwing with the Impala is what pushed it across the line."

"Wow. Shortest Prank Week in the history of Winchester Prank Weeks."

"Yeah. But it was fun while it lasted, right?"

"Yeah."

"Seriously, dude, where are your pants?"

"I was violated by a transvestite, Dean. I'm pretty sure that's worse than screwing with the Impala."

"Is not. You could have done serious damage to her."

"Who? The car or the transvestite?" he asked sarcastically.

"Okay, one; you know what I'm talking about. Two; that's just wrong. I'm not going there."

"A transvestite, Dean?"

"Yes, only, I wasn't actually planning on her being a transvestite. I was actually going to pay her to do you, because I know how gentlemanly you are. And how much it would get on your nerves. The transvestite thing was just a bonus."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

Sam rolled his eyes and walked to the bathroom to take a shower while Dean finished cleaning the guns.

Half an hour later, Sam walked out of the bathroom, drying his hair. Dean was flipping through the channels and stopped on the news channel.

"_Another body was found at Colman Manor this week. The body was identified as a man, Jackson Chambers. He was found early Monday morning, his throat cut, hanging from the ceiling fan. Police found a red and blue bandana in Chambers' mouth."_

"Dude, Sam. This chick's insane."

"You would be too, Dean."

"Yeah, but, seriously. This is the sixth time this month."

"Whatever. I'm gonna turn in early. We'll worry about the haunting tomorrow afternoon."

"You're right."

_That night._

_"Sam... Sam... Sam, wake up!"_

"Sammy, wake your ass up!"

Sam shot up, narrowly missing the handle of Dean's knife.

"What, Dean?"

"There's a girl outside that keeps peeking in through the cracks in the blinds. I feel like stabbing her, but I don't want to be arrested."

"What? You're supposed to be _my_ protector and you don't want to tell a girl to go away?"

"I can't, everytime I open the door, she goes missing."

"Do you want me to check up on it?"

"If you don't mind."

"And you're sure this isn't some kind of prank?"

"I'm positive."

Sam got up out of the bed and walked to the door. He stepped out and saw nothing. He crept out a little further and Dean slammed the door behind him. The locks clicked into place and Sam heard a girl screaming behind him.

He turned around and a skinny girl with blond hair chased him, ready to tackle him. He sprinted off down the hall toward the stairs. Looking over his shoulder for a brief second, he felt his feet slip out from under him and he tumbled down the stairs.

Dean threw the door open when he heard Sam yell and a loud crash. He jogged to the top of the stairs and looked down.

"Shit!"

Sam laid on his stomach at the bottom of the flight of stairs. Blood was making its way from where his knee was. He sat up slowly and glared at Dean, who was by his side almost instantly.

"You alright?" he asked.

"I hate your guts, Dean."

"Okay, well, let's get you back to the room."

Sam had a very blue bruise on his face, just above his jawline. His elbows were scraped and his knee was torn open. His ankle was swollen and sore, and his thigh was throbbing.

_End of flashback. Present time._

"This is your fault, Dean."

"It is not!"

"You started Prank Week. You just couldn't stand that we were tied, could you?"

"That's not the point. Although, I did win."

"Did not. I got hurt, and it was after Prank Week ended."

"Dude."

"What?"

"You're so competitive."

"Shut up. Just leave me alone for a while."

"Whatever, Sam, but this wasn't my fault."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

THE END

(A/N) Sorry, the ending sucked. I had the perfect ending for this story in mind, but I lost it right when I went to type it. Please R&R.


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